


XO

by merrabeth



Series: Slam Jams [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Again, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, PWP, Song fic, also a lil bit of a Baby Daddy au, also it's not really a pwp, best friend au, it's grand, random exerpt from a story that doesn't exist, there's a lil bit of plot, xo as in beyonce yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did I do something wrong?” Ian must’ve knew those Gallaghers were good for asking the right questions, looking at a person the right way with that right tone to make a person break. His voice sounded desperate, like he’d been thinking about this a lot. So desperate, even, that he let the slip run from him. Did we do something wrong, he should have asked. But even Mickey understood with confidence now that this wasn’t about the Gallaghers, this was about Ian only.<br/>Mickey took a deep breath. Maybe he could do this. “You were moving on.” And was Mickey ever stupid for thinking that would be explanation enough.</p><p>Or<br/>Yet another best friend AU where Mickey expresses he has feelings for his best friend. Also a lil bit of Baby Daddy AU but barely</p>
            </blockquote>





	XO

[Oki but just imagine this song with this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uDgICa14Ek)

 

The phone slid back into his pocket and Mickey tried to make his heavy sigh of relief subtle as possible. The last thing he needed was for Lip to catch on, even a little bit.

With another sigh to fill the silence, Lip resigned, looking around the small, dark apartment. Mickey couldn’t see if his friend’s blue eyes found something to help their “search” in the living room, but Mickey was itching to move, twitch, do anything, everything that would give himself away.

“Well, he hasn’t called, or answered,” Lip announced, stating the obvious. “You’re his best friend, Mick. He’s gonna call you at some point. Just...when he does, call us, ok? He needs to be home.”

Mickey nodded, schooling his face not to react to all the obvious Lip was spouting. Yes, he was Ian’s best friend, and Ian was Mickey’s. Yes, Ian would call Mickey before everyone. These are all things everyone knew. And they’d already happened.

Mickey nodded again and started walking forward as Lip headed towards the door. He hesitated when Lip fell short at the open door, looking around again at the empty room. “Why’d you move so far away, man?” It sounded as though the question had plagued him for months. Sure, Mickey had heard “why” over and over again, but never to this degree; like Lip knew Mickey never explained correctly or properly, like there was always something he was leaving out. But Mickey couldn’t give Lip the satisfaction of being right just yet.

“You know I couldn’t stay there, man. I had to leave that shithole.” Lip didn’t react, so Mickey leapt forward. “I mean, you guys moved, too. No one’s really asking why you guys tried to make it on your own.”

“Well, for one, we weren’t trying to make it on our own. And you didn’t have to pick an apartment so far away. Hell, you could have roomed with us. Ian missed you for a while, y’know? He thought maybe you were mad at us for some reason.” Lip paused to huff out a laugh. “Then you came the next day, strollin’ in like you owned the damn place. And you just kept coming over.”

Mickey didn’t need the nostalgia of his foiled plan. He didn’t need to be reminded of how weak he was. But of course Ian had been there, and it’d been so much easier to fall back into something when only one person was aware of the desired change. But it wasn’t desired. Mickey felt it was a necessity. He had to get away from the Gallaghers, every single one of them.

Lip glanced down at his hands, realizing he wouldn’t get his answer. “Yeah, I, uh...I guess you’ll tell me later, huh?”

Mickey only shrugged in response, placing a hand on the door as Lip finally left. He stared at the closed door for a minute, listening to the descending footsteps as his friend walked down the hall towards to the elevator. Not a moment too soon, when the air had grown still again and there was nothing else to listen for, the figure at his darkened crevices emerged.

“Thanks, Mick.” Ian’s words were soft, but they filled the quiet so perfectly.

Ian leaned on his shoulder against the door frame of his bedroom, the street lights only allowing enough light to bounce off the shadows.

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, man. You have to go home.” Mickey finally turned on the lights, letting the room come to life to explain for all the silhouettes the darkness made. “Why’d you…” Mickey had to phrase this correctly, “why’d you even come here in the first place?”

Ian shrugged, heading over to the window, leaning out to get a catch of the warm summer breeze. He’d earlier lost faith in much clothing and was only left in a tank and basketball shorts that hung low on his hips- in all, Mickey wasn’t having the worst time with keeping his patience. “Why’d you move over here?” Ian chose to opt out of the question in substitute for an issue seemingly on a lot of people’s minds.

But Mickey wasn’t having it. “No, you can’t do that. I’m not the one that came over to your place, eating up your goddamned food and making you promise not to inform anyone on my presence.” Ian had finally brought all his attention back to Mickey, walking away from the window and making his way to pent up ball of frustration that was his friend. “So why the fuck did you come here?”

There was a flush growing on Ian’s cheeks before he even spoke, and Mickey could recognize the overall known truth of his physical state, leading him to drop his head to the floor, staring at his hands and feet as if they were distracting.

“Josh sorta broke up with me,” mumbled Ian, with not much despair in his voice rather than just the initial embarrassment of being dumped. And that was what made Mickey’s chest deflate.

“Did he do it when you got to New York?” It seemed like a non-Mickey question to ask, even if they were best friends. Mickey wasn’t one to ask about the details, just there to help get Ian get through it.

Ian chuckled, picking his head up just a bit to glance at Mickey at random times. “Actually, over voicemail. Yeah, I’d just gotten on the plane, and the attendant was saying how we’d have to turn off our phones shortly and boom! So I had to sit through a four hour flight with the prospect of knowing I’d be coming back as soon as I got there.” Once Ian was done with his explanation, he finally lifted his head up, seemingly taking off the weight of the truth. It must have a felt fucking incredible, Mickey guessed with envy. “Why you so fuckin’ speechless?”

It was then that Mickey realized his jaw had gone slack and his face was oddly tight. He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “I’m just...why didn’t you just go home, then? ‘S not like Lip would dishonor you or somethin’.”

The lightning of shock that struck Ian’s expression probably made Mickey jump before the laugh that followed did. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ian finally asked when the laughing subsided just enough. “The one feeling all you guys could agree on was doubt. You guys fuckin’ doubted him from the beginning- but none of you said shit when I was ready to board a plane and follow him to New York.”

Now Mickey was confused. “If you’re mad at all of us, then why did you come here, to me?”

Ian groaned exasperatedly, hands running roughly through his hair before he let them fall to his sides. “Because I wanna be here, Mick! The real question is why you don’t want me to be here!”

“Hey, I never said I didn’t want you he-”

“Oh, but you made it obvious you didn’t wanna be around us.” Somehow, the conversation was coming full circle and the spotlight was once again panning down on Mickey Milkovich. His voice had quieted immensely, his face solemn and everything just so fucking serious. “Mickey, why’d you try to leave us? Lip was right, you could have found a building so much closer. You could’ve lived in the same building, the same apartment. Why did you try to leave me-us?”

There it was again, that slip. It were slips like those that made Mickey stay. It were slips like those that made Mickey have hope that maybe he had a shot. The first slip wasn’t even a slip at all, but a testament to their friendship: the day Ian came out. Lip had found out, but Ian told Mickey. But maybe the slip was when Ian just bore into Mickey with those green eyes, looking up through those copper lashes just to make sure he hadn’t fucked everything up with telling the product of idiocy-not excluding homophobia- that he was gay. But Mickey had took it in stride. The next slip was when Mickey got shot. Mickey could deny it all he wanted, but the way Ian tried so hard to calm down the wailing, swearing Milkovich boy with his thumb caressing at his cheek as if that’d be the greatest anesthesia, only made Mickey’s blood boil, and he was only getting louder in his wailing and swearing. And when Ian had come to visit Mickey when he was juvie, and Ian had teased about missing Mickey, it made Mickey shift in his seat. Yes, that’d been a joke, but the smile that came from Mickey’s snark remark hit Mickey deep and he couldn’t possibly look Ian in the eye with that smile. Once he got out, there’d been so many slips, so many times that Mickey saw Ian say with his eyes how much he could want Mickey, and as Mickey trudged the mental and emotional journey of understanding and admitting to his own sexuality, Ian was there to just confirm his doubts.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ian must’ve knew those Gallaghers were good for asking the right questions, looking at a person the right way with that right tone to make a person break. His voice sounded desperate, like he’d been thinking about this a lot. So desperate, even, that he let the slip run from him. Did we do something wrong, he should have asked. But even Mickey understood with confidence now that this wasn’t about the Gallaghers, this was about Ian only.

Mickey took a deep breath. Maybe he could do this. “You were moving on.” And was Mickey ever stupid for thinking that would be explanation enough.

“We only moved to Bridgeport; not that far from where we grew up.” Ian’s oblivion at any other time would be charming, but Mickey was walking on thin ice with himself, and he was snapping at the seams.

“No,you...fucking idiot! You wanted someone, and you fucking found someone. You were dating Josh. You moved on. You had...everything you wanted,” Mickey felt his breathing speed as he finally pushed out the real reason. “You had Josh and fuckin’ Lip and your family- I was ready to leave and sort my own shit out but then you couldn’t just fucking let go! So why the fuck wouldn’t you just let me go?”

“Maybe because you’re my best fucking friend and I always want you around?” Obvious, Ian thought, so fucking obvious. “And what shit are you talking about? What was going on with you? Why didn’t you just confide in me like a fucking human being? Friends help each other out, asshole!”

Mickey scoffed. “You’re the last person I’d talk to about this.”

He could see it, the pain in Ian’s eyes. That’d really stung him, those words. “Fuck you,” he spat out, finally. “I’d help you out with anything and you fucking know it. If you didn’t wanna be around me you should’ve just said something rather than making me think we could actually be...just...fuck you, Mickey.”

Mickey could have let Ian leave. He probably should have. But Mickey wasn’t done. He was so close to finally getting it out and he’d be damned if he was gonna let Ian walk out without understanding. As Ian’d said, he was Mickey’s best fucking friend. And however his best fucking friend could take his predicament, he had to tell him.

“My problem was that I wanted you!” Mickey had his hands at Ian’s chest, trying to keep the raging bull from barreling for the door. He shoved Ian back as the awe laced his features. His green eyes had glazed over and his features had relaxed. “But you had fuckin’ Josh and you always wanted me around and it felt like fuckin’ torture, honestly.” With his softened tone, a laugh sprung from him. “I know your gaydar is pretty shitty, but you’re just fuckin’ oblivious, man. And-and you kept slipping and it was like...I dunno, feeding a racoon or some shit: I just kept coming back, waiting for more. I’d wanted to leave but then you looked so relieved to see me and I just kinda...y’know.” With nothing left to say, they inhaled the tension and exhaled the silence. All these emotions ran through Ian’s face and it would have been entertaining to watch had it not been already nerve-racking to see what his actions had caused for their friendship.

Ian took in a breath before finally looking up through those copper lashes. “I’d missed you. I was about to come to you, had you not came to us first. Lip thought I was insane,” he paused to smile and it was sad, piercing at Mickey’s heart and the regret started forming in his pit. What the fuck had he done?

Ian’s voice was even quieter. Had it not been for the quiet summer night and the breeze that shuffled softly, maybe Mickey may have not heard Ian. “He thought I was crazy for liking you; said I should look for someone to take my mind off you.”

And there was Mickey’s heart, shattered into billions of tiny inscrutable pieces and there was only one thing Mickey thought he could do to maybe put himself back together.

So he surged forward, wrapping a hand around the back of Ian’s neck and pulling their bodies together as their mouths found each other.  

Ian fell into it, accepted it, rolled out a welcome mat for those lips he’d dreamed of. And as Mickey’s lips parted, allowing him access inside, Ian sighed, taking the offer to taste him more, licking at the lips he’d watch be bitten and licked at for years. He couldn’t begin to believe this was real, the softness of those worn lips, the strength under those tender hands grabbing at his neck. This is the body he wished he could pull closer as he did now for years, hands circling the older man’s waist and dragging him forward. Ian couldn’t think about how long they had been going at it, but when Mickey pulled away- just a hair, still sharing the same breath- Ian felt lightheaded, struggling to inhale the influx of oxygen his lungs were allowed to receive.

When had his eyes closed, Ian wasn’t sure. He opened them to find the dark pupils blown, the effects of being high on something so incredible, Ian must have been showing the same effects.

“Please tell me you’re serious,” Mickey whispered, his voice hoarse and coursed with everything that made Ian feel weak. “You have to be serious ‘cause once we start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” His threat was canceled by the need in his eyes, the way his teeth worried his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed together and the constant tug at the nape of his neck. He whispered out now, a plea voicing Ian’s doubts. “Please, let this be real…”

Ian wanted this to be real, and he went back to Mickey’s lips, giving them another use. And Mickey pushed back with as much fervor, as if to show how he was made for this, for hanging on to Ian and crawling into his senses with just the touch of his lips, the taste of his tongue.

Mickey couldn’t feel the pang of the edge of the table as they made their way backward, for he was all but surely being consumed in everything that was Ian, not excluding the hands that burned through the thin cloth of his shirt at his waist, the tongue that lapped at the insides of his mouth, the leg that slid its way between his own, and the memories playing as background noise in his head as every moment spent with this ginger came to this moment. But he was slowly losing that- coherent thought- as he felt those hands tug him impossibly closer.

The air coming through open window did no help to soothe their burning skin, the flashes of heat shooting through their veins with every passing moment and all the blood racing to one particular place. Ian pushed harder until their hardening cocks rubbed together and they shared a groan.

“Ian,” Mickey whispered as he felt the freckled hands slide under his shirt and grab at his skin. It was too hot for clothes, and they were quick to focus on getting rid of the little clothing they had on. Ian shoved at his own shorts and underwear before ripping at his tank top, in a rush to get the dreaded clothing away. Once he was finally free, he leaned back into Mickey, hard kisses at his lips as he pushed at Mickey’s shorts. With both their erections free, they went back to their beginning back and forth of grinding, the pressure building and building.

Mickey stepped out of his shorts and finally found enough strength to keep going, pulling Ian backward with their lips still locked as they made their way to Mickey’s bedroom. With only a lit lamp on the nightstand at his bed, they fumbled as they fell back on the bed, Mickey dragging his way up further with Ian holding his stare as he crawled just above him. The blown pupils that fell into the lit ring of the lamp took Mickey’s breath away and he could only grab at Ian, hoping to find what he needed in his best friend.

They continue on with their grinding, emitting gasps and groans from each other as they try to relieve the pressure building. Mickey’s legs bend to cradle Ian’s moving hips and they clamp hard as Ian finally moves his lips lower, leaving a blazing trail as his tongue licks at his jaw, his neck, his ear, his shoulder. “Fuck,” Mickey exhaled loudly as he held on, trying to slow his breathing. “Is this how it’s gonna end?’ he asked, letting his cheek fall to feel at the soft red hair.

Ian lifted his head, staring down at Mickey and wanting to make sense of the question. What was Mickey talking about, and before he could hide his confusion or even try to get too deep into what Mickey meant, the dark haired man squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto his shoulder with his blunt nails trying to dig into his skin for purchase and Ian’s vision zeroed back in on nothing but Mickey right then and right there, with just his tank top on covering skin Ian needed to have.

Ian pushed at Mickey’s tank top, shoving it over his head as he want to kiss at his chest, taking his nipples and licking and biting until Mickey had to force himself to breathe out and squirmed more under the red head’s ministrations. He smirked at what he thought sounded like a whimper before he looked up. “Maybe you should get the shit out before we get too far ahead,” Ian sighed out in one breath, his thoughts running faster than his mouth could, and he feared it sounded intangible to the older man. But he moved with quick and shaky movements as he rolled over to the nightstand and shuffled around for lube and a condom out of the drawer, holding his findings in front of Ian’s face with bright eyes.

They went back to kissing, Ian’s lips moving as he tried to focus on slicking his fingers up rather than the hand running through his hair or the other hand running down his back. As Mickey’s hand squeezed at his ass, Ian bucked forward, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Mickey. With a couple fingers coated, he held his weight on his elbow, rutting while the other hand swirled around Mickey’s hole, another jerk that ended in a gasp. Ian worked one finger in and out, twisting slowly and thoroughly before adding another finger, scissoring them and curling them.

Mickey had fallen into a trance of the feel of their bodies, their erections creating friction and their lips entangled together and the slight burn of Ian’s fingers and let the pleasure wash over him as a steady pulse before the stars burst behind his tightly shut eyes and his hips jerked forward and his throat closed up, the air unable to get through as Ian found his prostate.

“Ok,” Mickey panted out. “Okokok, I’m good fuck. Just...just get in-”

He was cut off by Ian’s lips, and sighed into them, already becoming so addicted to the feel and taste of Ian. He almost forgot about the fingers working slowly in has ass until they sped up, fingers now trained on where to hit and he could feel himself seizing up as the pleasure build and build.

“Shit,” Mickey wheezed as he looked down between their bodies and saw the muscles of Ian’s arms as his fingers slammed inside him. His head fell back to the mattress and he never thought his brain would get to this point of not-giving-a-fuck but there he was, pleas at his lips. “Fuck, Ian get in me, fuck, please.”

And maybe Ian felt they had enough of the teasing or the begging actually worked, but Ian finally removed his fingers, ripped open the condom and rolled it on, and used the rest of the lube on his fingers and slicked himself up. He guided himself in slowly, holding his breath for a reason he wasn’t really aware of. But he wasn’t the only one.

They shared a sigh as they sat there, connected at the hips as they adjusted to the stretch of being filled to the brim. But Mickey could only take the stillness for so long before he wrapped his legs around Ian’s properly and brought Ian down and whispered in his ear, “move.”

And with a growl, Ian began thrusting, gripping at the sheets on either side of Mickey’s head, licking at the pale skin there as he drove inside. Christ he wanted to make this last, make it as he always imagined it to be. But that was quickly failing.

Their grunts were sure to fill the small room, but Ian was consumed by the hot breath brushing at his ear, the lips on his skin as Mickey tried to bury his face into Ian’s neck. Ian drunk in every small moan and whimper and used it as fuel to snap at his resistance. With a certain roll of his hips, Mickey tightened around him and Ian felt himself snap, a groan muffled by Mickey’s shoulder as picked up the pace, the slap of their skin to mix with their heavy breathing.

Mickey was dying beneath Ian, mind going blank as Ian slammed into him, brushing over his sweet spot over and over again. But he had to drag this pleasure out for as long as he could. He tightened his grip on Ian’s shoulders and waist before turning them over, shuffling to sit properly and the change in position instantly hit Mickey perfectly.

Ian grabbed onto Mickey’s hips as he rode him into the sheets, one palm grabbing at his chest and the other on his stomach, giving himself leverage as he lifted himself up and down, rolling back and forth. He watched Mickey intensely, the light of the lamp showing the furrow of his brow and his slack jaw,all his concentration on the pleasure. “Fuck, Mickey,” Ian groaned, appreciating the view. Ian planted his feet on the mattress and guided Mickey’s body down as he thrusted up and Mickey stilled, a shiver running through his body as his fingers tried to grip at Ian’s pecs. Jackpot.

Ian sat up, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and holding him close as he ground on his dick, his own unattended cock rubbing against Ian’s abs. There was a broken moan, but they weren’t sure who it came from.

Ian flipped them over again, setting a brutal pace as he couldn’t hold back anymore, and maybe Mickey agreed as he clawed Ian’s back and ensnared his waist with his legs.

“Are you close?” Ian breathed out roughly, falling forward, resting their foreheads together as he hammered in Mickey. The only answer he got was Mickey pushing forward, panting hard and pulling at Ian’s face so their lips could lock sloppily.

The pressure had been building for so long, Mickey had been holding on by a thread. But Ian was pressing against his erection and he was grounding against his prostate and he could hold back then. He let go, a long shudder running through him as he bit at Ian’s lip, moaning and panting as he came hard between them. His muscles fluttered, twitching hard around Ian and he came hard into Mickey with a groan, gripping and pulling at the sheets.

Ian stayed there, hovering over Mickey as he finally opened his eyes and saw those blue eyes. They were both still panting, just staring at each other, waiting to come down from all the intensity. Ian finally pulled out and tied up the condom, tossing it on the nightstand before shifting to fall next to Mickey.

Mickey looked to the ceiling, studying where the ring of light faded. He huffed out a laugh, trying to remember everything but still too caught up. “You don’t know how long…” he couldn’t finish the statement, feeling it to be inadequate.

But Ian understood. “Same here.” He let his head fall to the side, staring at the still shocked Mickey, before he finally just turned to lay on his side. “How long?”

Mickey almost questioned what Ian was talking about, but he quickly understood. He shrugged, still unsure himself when he realized he was gay. “Somewhere between you coming out to me and your brother talking about finding you a guy to fuck.”

Ian looked away shyly with a smirk. “He’d been referring to me getting over you. I think it took me a while to get the act down. But I think he still has his suspicions.”

They were quiet again, just basking in the comfortable silence. It all felt so right with them, even if they had been friends for years before this. It was something they both wanted. But a thought had Mickey sitting up straight and staring down at Ian. “Was this just a rebound thing?”

Ian sat up then, letting his arms rest on his bent knees. “I think in order for the rebound thing to work, I wouldn’t have feelings for you.” He leaned forward, placing a hand on Mickey’s jaw as they shared a soft kiss. Mickey almost wanted to protest as Ian pulled away. He licked at his bottom lip, looking back up to Ian. “You can’t be a rebound when you were the end goal, Mick.” The words were so solemn, and Ian had that look, one that he would slip to Mickey, the one that would keep Mickey from running away. He didn’t have to run away now, and the realization swept over him and he looked away.

“Christ, you’re fuckin’ gay,” Mickey mumbled weakly, but couldn’t help the smile as he heard Ian’s laugh behind him.

“And apparently,” Ian whispered in his ear, “so are you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and shoved at Ian’s face. “Fuck off. Look, I’m fucking disgusting but I’m too tired to actually clean up…”

“I take it as the highest compliment,” Ian chimed as he layed back down with a proud smile.

“But we’re gonna get up early tomorrow. You’re gonna call you’re fuckin’ family and you’re gonna go home.” He settled back onto his bed, trying to be subtle about shifting closer.

“Are you gonna come home, too?”

Mickey knew what Ian was talking about, and he let the snarky comment slide watching those green eyes twinkle in the dim light. “We’ll see. Let’s get some sleep.” He reached over Ian to turn the lamp off and hesitated for on a breath before he laid as close as possible to his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the second installment of a pwp based on a playlist called Slam Jams which are just songs that can fit with a sex scene or situation where sex happens (Is this bad? I dunno) So yeah, lemme know what ya think so far.


End file.
